Few people have the chance to - go back, do something again. But the other version of Kystle is a very specific exception. He knows what's in store for it if he doesn't do anything. Genocide for the invaders (Lynn would call it justified, he just thinks murder is murder), a second invasion of New Kystle, immortal psychopaths with sharp weaponry running around - not the kinds of things he wants. So Prime is thinking of ways to circumvent the problem.
It's unfortunately humbling when he finds no moral solution knocking at his door. There are plenty of immoral ones, but he doesn't touch those. Certainly, he could throw the out of work demon hunters at the plane, tell them to kill things, but that hardly solves the underlying problem. Even he, with all his power, can't save an entire planet. His sister couldn't, either. Not even both of them together.
Obviously, he needs more resources. He didn't deal much in other planes, not when the risks were so great. But now - now he knows that there are other versions of him, other versions of Bells. With various types of magic. Prime isn't a greedy man, but he knows new possible resources when he sees hints of them, and he wants them. He can fix - not his mistake in particular, but his mother's, the second bloodline's.
He spends some time scrying, and then he sighs and snaps his eyes shut. Yeah, that's definitely something. He did not need to see a younger version of himself having sex. Ever. Annoying how his alts seem to come in pairs with 'Bells,' it leads to awkward situations like this. Mirrors are retrieved, and then Prime informs everyone of what he's found - another Adarin, another Bell, together and obviously with some kind of magic.
Since Pantheon seems to be their impromptu central base, he retrieves a recent creation of his, and off he goes to meet with Spring. They're going to write a letter.
"Hoo boy. Well. You can have my runecasting notes and program with my blessing, they should be nicely organized at least for another me to look at, and - I don't think I have a big enough hammer to hit an entire planetary invasion force with. I get ambushed by monsters we can barely handle just at home."
He nods. "Yeah, it's - something of a difficult problem. The runecasting notes and program would be lovely, though, every little bit helps."
"I don't have a spare flash drive, but I can pick some up. Although we're not exactly bursting at the seams with spare cash. I mean, we have a small business, but it's small and there's a fair amount of labor costs getting people to scribe for us and the rent in the Avalon for the shop and apartment is kind of astronomical. So if anybody has solved economics that would be nice to know."
She's back after a brief phone call. "I'll get back to you about how much minimally suspicious cash I can divert your way. Unless the Secret Service already suspects you of counterfeiting or it turns out the design of the money is different, you should be fine."
"What if the design of the - then you have some spare petty cash lying around which happens to be kind of old, okay. Thanks."
"No problem, what else would a portal network slowly edging out airlines the world over be for?"
Cypress waves, obviously pleased with himself. "The economy cowers before us. Bwuahahaha."
"At some point we're planning to come clean about who's making the portals, but I keep putting it off for this or that reason."
"We want the result that it gets us in the end, but the upheaval necessary for it annoys the both of us," clarifies Cypress. "I don't particularly mind her taking all of the credit."
"Katydid," says Iobel suddenly. "I mean - that'll do for a nickname. By analogy to Cricket. Call me Katydid until I think of something better."
"Two water features, an insect, and - what's Phix supposed to mean? The translation spell isn't getting it."
"That's all of us handled, then, the Adarins are behind," says Ice, gesturing at Darren and Edarial.
"Is this a contest? I didn't know I needed to have a nickname when I woke up this morning!"
"Nothing comes to mind for me. I suppose I could try to match Berathyme, but her name is rather hard to translate."
"It's a term in her language for the quiet, peaceful period after a gentle rain has subsided."
"That just leaves you," says Phix, elbowing Darren gently. "Come on, I didn't know I needed a nickname when I woke up this morning either."
"There aren't many good plays off of peryton, though. Or possibly any. What do I get from that? Antlers?"